


Wish You Were Here

by BabylonSabby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Brotherly comfort, Comfort, Death, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Other, Sadness, implied beta dirkjake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6347362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonSabby/pseuds/BabylonSabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re Dirk, but it’s a long, old forgotten name you don’t go by anymore. It’s something you’ve buried in your heart along with just about everything else you’ve buried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the titular song by Pink Floyd.

You’re Dirk, but it’s a long, old forgotten name you don’t go by anymore. It’s something you’ve buried in your heart along with just about everything else you’ve buried. If it was painful in your life, you buried it. If it was significant in some way…you buried it. You basically decided to bury the entire past. To forget as much as you could about it. Cause’ what had it ever brought you but pain?

You go by ‘Bro’ now. Because spiritually speaking, you and the little charge under your roof have always been brothers. And always would be.

But it’s not him you’re thinking of right now.

It’s the other guy.

The older one.

He’s a tall, hulk of a man. Or used to be anyway. In his younger days. But nothing gold can stay, they say. So in his last days he went out with a literal bang, his body already starting to give out on him.

But…strangely enough you can’t remember a damn bit of him.

Logically speaking, you shouldn’t feel any connection to him at all. Because you never met him.

Right?

But you know that’s a lie.

He’s somewhere on an island somewhere. Being lord and king of his castle. A Pharaoh in a tomb. Giving spiritly commands to a young girl who tries desperately to avoid them and live her life independently, much like he did in his younger days. She’s much better at it, you admit.

But even though the pictures of his most recent visage give way to an older gentleman, and you know this gentleman as such, there’s another face that goes with it. One you think about much more often. Increasingly…nowadays. A much happier face. A much more nostalgic face. It’s like little, child-like feet scampering right over your childhood. The kind of pitter patter in your heart that makes you grab at your chest, fingers curling and twisting into claws at the fabric that shields it.

One day you’ll see that face again…right?

For now it’s just an old, old memory.

A dream you keep having.

One that makes you cry every night.

You feel so goddamn lonely. It’s the literal story of your life. From start to finish, there is only loneliness. Even when around other people, you feel lonely.

You thought that once you got older, that it would be an old feeling and eventually go away; that you’d one day conquer loneliness, or at least subdue it.

But it’s worse now.

It’s worse now that you’re older, because now it’s a different kind of loneliness. There’s a futility to it. A slight taste of existentialism. With a hint of confusion.

That face didn’t love you then.

And it doesn’t love you now.

There’s been a literal monster haunting your apartment, and when you’re supposed to be the adult, you’re the actual child. Dave is a kid. But he has more of a clue on what’s going on in this madhouse than you do. And there is no one…to save you. You’re on your own.

There are no arms to hold you when you’re at your most vulnerable state, curled up into the fetal position on your bed.

There’s no fingers to run through your hair.

No familiar, friendly voice of someone you love telling you it’s going to be okay.

You never had that before. Ever. Not once.

You’ve never had a dad. Never had a mom. And as far as you can remember, not even your closest of friends ever held you in this way.

And that’s all you wanted.

That’s literally all you ever wanted.

Take all the money in the world.

Take all the possessions.

Take…everything.

But just let you have this. Just let you have that safe place people go to…when they’re lost and alone. And those loving arms wrap around them and suddenly they’re home. All the fear and pain goes away and there’s nothing left but a crumbling wall overtaken by relief.

You wrap your arms around yourself, pretending they’re someone else’s. And it’s only when you realize that they’re a farce, a stand-in for the real thing, that you crumble and quake until your face goes still. And your eyes stare dead into the abyss.

“Bro?”

You look up.

The little one is standing there.

He’s about twelve now. Sometimes you still think he’s five.

“Dave,” you choke.

“You’re glasses aren’t on your face,” he says. “Let me go get them—”

You grab his wrist. He gasps.

He stares at you very, very still. Like a rabbit that’s just been cornered and doesn’t know what to do, but just stand there. He’s looking you dead in the eyes.

And it’s strange, cause’…all he sees there is fear. His expression softens for the barest of moments. And that’s when you whimper and pull him close. Goddamnit.

It’s awkward getting him onto the bed with you. It’s not one, graceful swoop that allows you to summon him. It’s a lot of pulling and adjusting and you just being in general…a weak ass.

He’s being the strong one now, very mature for his age, and holding you still, because what else can he do? You’re literally doing nothing more than just collapsing. Failing. Giving up. Your whole body has gone limp and it falls forward. Right onto his chest.

By that time, you’re already weeping…and slowly your arms start to lift and wrap around his tiny waist.

“Dave…” you whimper again.

Pretty soon, it’s the only word you’ve said. The rest is just noise. Just soft, breaking sobs as you cry into his shirt.

He just kind of holds you there. Holds you in place. He’s a trooper the way he stays so firm. Doesn’t even budge. You wonder if it’s from the training. It’s simultaneously a triumphant and disheartening feeling to think that your training has been successful thus far. You’ve been a monster. And Dave has had little to no childhood. He’s a miniature Spartan who just so happens to be good at video games and music making. He hides this blood thirsty killing instinct behind a facade of an everyday, average shit ass.

You’ve turned him into you. 

For survival’s sake.

This is the price you have payed.

You’ve chosen life…for innocence.

But dear God, there’s a shred of it left in this tiny body you’ve wracked.

It’s beating in that little heart of his. You can hear it in his voice. You can feel it in the way his arms hesitate at first…before finally breaking down and wrapping themselves tighter around your neck.

He’s hugging you.

He’s hugging you tightly.

“Bro…” he murmurs, “Bro, did you have a bad dream or somethin’?”

It’s quite often Dave will have nightmares. You’ve held him once…after a long bout of them. But it was a long time ago. So you’re wondering why he’s suddenly paying you the favor.

You nod, still quivering in his arms. 

“I think I’m having one right now. A waking one.”

You’ve schooled him about waking dreams. The mind can sometimes be a dark and terrible place. It’s the very thing that controls you. And it can turn against you…just like that. You’re only an ant. You’re not even real.

And that’s when it hits you.

Earlier you were thinking about exactly this.

Some person stronger than you coming from out of nowhere and just washing the pain away for no good reason.

And here they were. Doing exactly that.

It came not in the form of your ex-boyfriend, or even his older, now deceased self. It came not in the form of Roxy or Jane. It came not in the form of an anonymous mother or a father.

It came in the form of this little boy.

He was the strong one. 

Always had been. Always would be.

It was written in the stars…that he was strong. The universe was waiting for him. The universe was praying for him. Wanting him. Needing him. 

Never did he know, not once, how strong he actually was.

He always thought it was you.

But in reality, you were actually much weaker. Sure, you could steal souls and store them away for safe keeping. Sure, you could devastate an entire meteor if needed. 

But his heart was much more purer than yours. It wasn’t nearly as jaded. Nearly as hopeless. He always found a way to take the worst life had…and just laugh at it. Sure he got low some times. You all did, you were only human. But unlike you, he’d just pick himself right back up and keep going.

You…were always left behind. You could never pick yourself up just as easily. It took a lot more effort and a lot more faking it. Fake it, till’ you make it, that’s how you got by in this life.

But he wasn’t faking it now.

And neither were you.

This was real shit.

And he knew it.

That’s why he held on so tightly, just like you did when he was five years old and going on about, “You’re going to die,” this, and, “I saw it happen,” that. Of course you’re going to die, of course you are. By all accounts, it’s already happened.

But it’s not so bad in hindsight, knowing that he loves you.

It’s not so bad.

You’re just worried you’re going to let him down.

That you’re going to fail him before the Big Death happens.

You shake your head into his chest. You can’t let this happen.

“It’s okay, Bro, you want me to make you some water?”

You feel a hand pat your left shoulder blade.

You finally lean back, gasping, sniffling, and rubbing at your sore eyes.

“Naw, man, I’m fine, I think…Thanks, though.”

He nods, slowly and steadily sinking back into what you call “the role”.

“Alright. I’ll get your shades.”

You nod as he leaves. Feeling slightly embarrassed. Embarrassed in front of your own child.

“Here,” he says once he returns, lifting the pointed shades to your face.

“Thanks,” you mutter, sliding the things on. 

“You’re welcome.” He’s looking pensive. “Did you hear any voices or anything while they were off?”

You shake your head.

“Thankfully no.”

“Good,” he nods, “…Okay, then, well….Are you gonna be okay?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I think I’ll be fine, thanks.”

It’s so different now that the ‘code’ has been broken. But you reckon it’s just ‘broken’ for tonight. For this moment. Tomorrow things will be back to ‘normal’ again.

“Okay. Keep your shades on.”

He points at you like he means business. Like you’ve pointed to him before.

You laugh.

“Alright, see you in the morning.”

“’Kay. Night.”

And like that, he heads out the door.

Any other time you’d be sitting there wondering what the fuck just happened. But you don’t think or wonder any of that shit.

You know what happened.

And it’s made your heart feel very restful. More restful than it has in years.

So that when you lay or head down on your pillow, curling up into a ball again, this time it’s not to cry. This time it’s to sleep. And you do so with the happy, brand new memory of Dave giving you sanctuary when you didn’t even ask for it. You asked for peace. You received it.


End file.
